


Disinformation

by So1said



Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: Duke of Edinburgh Award, Gen, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 19:13:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1123375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/So1said/pseuds/So1said
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Or The Art of the Bluff</i>. Set in prone2dementia's <i>Happily Never After</i> 'verse. Tom is a teacher, leading a Duke of Edinburgh expedition in the Brecon Beacons. When Tom and Alex decide to play a trick on Tom's students, they don't realise quite how far it will go…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disinformation

**Author's Note:**

> Kind of set in prone2dementia’s [Happily Never After](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5777718/1/Happily-Never-After) ‘verse, though with considerable artistic licence, and published with her permission. Thank you, darling!
> 
> This story has been begging to be written since about 2009, and of course the inspiration would come halfway through third year, wouldn’t it? I’ve finally managed to wade my way out of dissertation hell (Popular anti-catholic print and its relation to nationalism in the Elizabethan period: fascinating, but dear god it’s a lot of work…) to bring you this. I apologise for the inevitable awfulness of it.
> 
> The Duke of Edinburgh’s award is an actual thing, fairly widespread in decent schools and things like guide and scout units. I completed Bronze and Silver and gave Gold a decent try. It’s kind of complicated, but all you really need to know about it is this: at every level you are required to complete two expeditions: a practice and a test, which you generally complete in groups of about 4-8. There are no adults with you, and you have to (often) plan and navigate your own route around. They get harder the higher you get through the awards. The Brecons, although they are actual mountains, are difficult to navigate but not particularly hard to climb – one of the expeditions in my Silver group was to the Brecons. Most of the stories – the one about the Trangia and the teachers faking external examiners – are true, though names have been changed to protect the guilty. Strangely enough, we never ran into the SAS training, though…
> 
> All places are real and a conceivable distance to walk in a day. Seriously, I busted the maps out to check. If you think the place names are a little strange, that would be because they are Welsh. Any weird mountaineering terms are defined at the end, though if I’ve missed anything please let me know. Growing up with them means you often miss such things.
> 
> Disclaimer: None of the events relevant to the military or the Official Secrets Act in this story are based on real life. I’ve never signed the OSA, nor did I look up how it works or any of the wording associated with it. Alex Rider belongs to Anthony Horowitz, and I am using his characters in accordance with the Fair Use exception to copyright law.

In the last few years, Brooklands Comprehensive had been on the up-and-up. Student grades had improved, and the extracurricular activities list got longer and longer. By the time Tom Harris re-joined the school, this time as a teacher, it had a science club, a hockey club – and a top quality Duke of Edinburgh’s Award programme that was in dire need of good leaders. He jumped at the chance.

Of course, what not many people know is that for the leaders, D of E is just an excuse for a good piss-up. Whilst the kids spend the day slogging miserably up mountains and wading through bogs, the expedition leaders are usually sitting tight in a pub somewhere along the route, just waiting for the kids to get to the point where they are close enough to check in. In fact, the routes are often planned in a way that means that a convenient pub is actually _on_ the route, negating the problem of debating who has to leave their pint to check if the kids are at the checkpoint yet because the pub _is_ the checkpoint.

When Tom suggested the Brecon Beacons National Park as the destination for the Silver Award expedition, he was thinking more of the excellent pub he’d seen there last weekend than anything else.

*

Tom’s phone rang. He took one hand off the steering wheel and groped around in the central console for it. The face flashing up on the screen was a pleasant surprise and he answered it with a grin.

“Alex!”

“Tom!” Alex’s tone was dry, but Tom could barely hear him over the racket going on behind him.

“Hold on a minute, mate,” he said, and then turned around in his seat. “Oi! _Oi!_ You lot! Shut up, will you? I’m on the phone!” The noise diminished slightly, and Tom returned to the phone call.

“Sorry, mate, what were you saying?”

“I wasn’t.” Alex’s voice came through the receiver, clearly amused. “Where exactly are you, Tom?”

“In a minibus which is stuck in a traffic jam on the M48, if you must know. More to the point, where are _you_? You’ve completely dropped off the radar!”

Alex sounded less amused. “You know I can’t tell you that, Tom, this is an unsecured- wait, the M48? You in Wales?”

Tom rolled his eyes, very aware of the audience now avidly listening behind him. “Yeah, D of E Silver expedition. We’re taking them to the Brecons. Why?”

Alex laughed. “Fancy meeting up? I happen to be in that area with nothing to do for a couple of days.” Tom paused, letting the implications of that one sink in. He let out a bark of laughter.

“What, you’re at _Camp_? Oh boy, what did Jones have to promise you for _that_ particular favour?”

“If I told you that, I might have to kill you.” Alex replied, the smile in his voice once more. “Whereabouts in the Brecons are you going to be? I can probably commandeer a jeep.”

“We’re following the Brecon Beacons Trail. Staying in a Youth Hostel in Llanddeusant and then a campsite in Caerbont. In fact, tomorrow we’ll probably be in the Pen-y-cae pub all day.”

“Okay,” Alex replied, sounding distracted. “Look, I’ll see what I can do, alright? No promises.”

Tom frowned. “But-” The line went dead and he rolled his eyes. Never one for goodbyes, Alex.

“Who was that, Sir?” A voice behind him piped up.

“Just an old friend of mine," Tom replied, and resigned himself to a long few hours of questioning as the traffic moved forwards another foot.

*

The next day proved to be fine, and so Tom, Rob, Kris and Mark settled themselves in the garden of the Pen-y-cae Inn and prepared themselves for a long day of waiting.

Tom was nursing his third pint of the day by the time his phone buzzed on the table with a text from Alex.

‘ _Outside. Where are you?’_

 _‘In the gdn’_ Tom replied, distracted by the heated debate going on around the table as to whether Arsenal or Man U were going to win the Championship this year.

He was in the middle of explaining why they were all wrong and it was _clearly_ going to be Chelsea when a wry voice behind him made him jump.

“Glad to see you’re still holding up the side, Tom.”

Tom turned, swinging his legs over the picnic bench. “Alex, mate!”

Alex was standing behind him with a small grin on his face. They shook hands. Alex’s camo matched those of the considerably taller and bulkier man stood behind _him_ with a considerably bigger grin. Tom started in surprise.

“Ben! What are you doing here?”

Alex laughed. “Apparently I’m not allowed off site without a babysitter, so I picked the one I’m least likely to want to shoot in the face by the end of the day.” All three of them laughed.

“Er, Tom,” Kris’s tentative voice came from behind them. Tom turned.

“Sorry. Meet my best friend Alex Rider, and our… other friend, Ben. Guys, my co-workers, Kris, Mark and Rob.”

Kris smiled sweetly. “Lovely to meet you.”

Alex smiled thinly back. He’d never had much tolerance for bullshit. “You too. Next round’s on me. Pick your poison.”

As one, Ben and Tom flinched.

*

“So, Alex,” Kris said after they’d all settled down with their full glasses. “Are you guys military, then?”

Ben answered for Alex. “What gave it away?” They all laughed. “Yeah, we’re both instructors at Sennybridge. Heard Tom was around and decided to use some of that time off that they’ve been on at us to take recently.”

“Wow, that must be hard work, man,” Mark replied with a grin. “I wouldn’t wanna be doing it, that’s for sure.”

“I’d imagine that it’s rather like being a teacher, actually, except with more early mornings, explosions and mud.” As one, the Brooklands teachers laughed. Ben grinned. “Judging by the rather hysterical note in that laughter, I get the feeling there’s a story there somewhere?”

Rob snorted. “Oh, you bet. You’ll never guess what happened to one of the groups last night.”

“Oh, I’m sure I could guess,” Alex said, “but I’m sure it’ll be a lot funnier to hear it from you.”

“Well, they were camping in a wooded area behind the youth hostel, and they were setting up their camping stove – we give them Trangia’s because they’re tough and the fuels cheap, d’you know them? They’re round, got two parts that fit together in a kind of hourglass shape and the fuel cell clicks into the middle part- You do, great. Well, the areas kind of on a hill, and kids like to run around. Turns out that someone had lit their Trangia without checking it was on a flat area of land, and then someone else came along and knocked it by accident and the Trangia somehow got knocked on its side and rolled down the hill, flaming as it went.” The group made noises of commiseration.

“Yeah, I know. They were really lucky it didn’t hit any of the tents or any people, or even set fire to the leaves on the ground, but I suppose that isn’t really feasible – this is Wales, after all! Poor old Tom here nearly had an aneurysm when they came to get him!”

Alex snorted and then smirked at Tom. “Can’t imagine why. He’s a Chemistry teacher, surely he must be used to explosions by now!”

 Tom looked indignant. “Hey, hey, you can’t talk, Mr. I-set-the-science-block-on-fire-when-I-was-at-school!”

Alex sighed, mockingly. “I’m never going to live that one down, am I? For the last time, that wasn’t really my fault.”

It was Tom’s turn to smirk. “Maybe, maybe not. They may never have managed to pin that one on you, but everyone knew you had something to do with it.”

Alex rolled his eyes, still amused. “That was just a rumour because of my reputation at the time. If you recall, they also claimed I was a drug dealer and that I got my non-existent eighteen-year-old girlfriend pregnant at fourteen.”

“Jesus, Alex,” Kris exclaimed, “your life sounds like something off of Jeremy Kyle!”

Tom scoffed. “Oh, you have _no_ idea. Alex was a _real_ bad boy at school, weren’t you Alex? Now he spends his days kicking the bad boys into line!” Beside him, Ben’s shoulders were shaking slightly, but his laughter was completely silent. It was just as well, really – Alex looked ready to kill him if he said a word.

Mark slammed his pint down on the table. “Ah, but weren’t you two friends at school? Were you a bad boy, too, Tom?” Apparently caught out, Tom looked chagrined and the others pounced on it.

Kris turns to Alex. “C’mon, Alex, tell us what Tom was like at school! What kinds of pranks did you get up to? Someone so good at catching the kids out in them must have been good at it himself in his younger days!”

“Younger days? _Younger days?_ I’ll give you younger days, Miss-”

Rob cut Tom off. “Hey, speaking of pranks, I’ve got a really good one to play on the kids when they get here…”

*

Philip was wet, muddy, and fed up. They’d got up at a ridiculous time in the morning to freezing hands, wet tents and cold breakfast, only to have the teachers stroll down from the Youth Hostel looking well slept and disgustingly cheerful. Mr. Harris had even gone so far as to tease him for his scowl. Like he could talk – Monday mornings were not good days for Mr Harris, and everyone knew it.

Things had only really got worse from there. They’d got what felt like halfway up a mountain before realising that the mountain they actually wanted was the bigger one next to it, and in attempting to contour around the mountain to get to the other path, Simon had twisted his ankle in the knee high heather and Jo had sunk one foot into an unexpected boggy patch all the way up to her knee. Eventually, having found the correct path, they set their packs down for a breather, only for an incredibly cold wind to set in what felt like immediately. Shivering and complaining, they hefted their heavy rucksacks again and trudged on up the steep path. Being tired, it seemed, was better than being cold.

By the time they hit the mist, Philip really didn’t think it could get much worse. Thankfully the clouds weren’t that low that day, and there was a proper shelter on the top – not much more than a circle of loose stonework, but it kept the wind off at least. They’d huddled together for lunch, which somewhat restored everyone’s spirits, except Jo’s. She’d been trailing behind ever since she’d got a wet foot at the start of the day, and took the opportunity to prise her boot off to have a look at it – the wet boot had given her blisters the size of ten pence coins.

The trek down the mountain and the inevitable argument between the only two people who could actually read a map about the route hadn’t lightened the atmosphere, and it was a very disgruntled group who finally appeared at the Pen-y-cae pub at half-past four, albeit one seemingly determined to be cheerful.

They were directed around to the back of the pub – Philip was sure he wasn’t imagining the rather distasteful look on the publican’s face as he eyed their muddy boots – and into the garden, where they at once spotted their four teachers looking rather comfortable at a table in the sunshine. Miss Barkhof spotted them and waved them over, the others at the pint-glass covered table turning around to try and see what she was waving at. It was at that point that Philip realised that their teachers were not alone at the table – they had, in fact, been joined by a couple of rather frightening looking men in Army uniforms.

Mr Harris jumped to his feet. “You alright there, guys? No serious problems?” There was a generally mumbled negative.

“Alright then, well I’d like to introduce you to your external examiners for the expedition. You’re very lucky, we’ve shelled out and got you the real deal: this is Alexander Rider and Benjamin Daniels from the military training camp at Sennybridge.” There was mumbled confusion from all around Philip.

“We aren’t supposed to have external examiners for this bit, right?” Steph asked him, nervously.

“I thought that was just for Gold,” Philip replied, puzzled.

“They do look quite official, though, I suppose.” There were murmurs of agreement all round, underlain with anxiety. If they’d known there would be a _test_ they probably would have actually put in some work.

In front of them, there was a gentle throat clearing. Whilst they had been talking, the younger, blonde man had stood up, looking quietly amused.

“When you’re quite finished doubting my legitimacy?” Someone behind Philip shuffled their feet guiltily. The other guy in uniform looked kind of scary from far away, up close, though, this guy was definitely worse.

“Who wants to go first?” Deafening silence. “Well, don’t all volunteer at once! All I want you to do is tell me how you’d pinpoint where exactly you are on a map if you don’t already know...”

*

General agreement afterwards was that that test had been really fucking hard, but the examiner was obviously legit.

Also, that it was completely unfair that the teachers so obviously got a free holiday whilst they had to slog up mountains and get lost and end up fording rivers and falling into bogs and having to answer really nasty questions.

“I don’t know,” Jo mumbled, from the back of the group, “he seemed pretty nice to me.” The examiner guy had taken her aside after the test, his face sympathetic, and advised her not to take her boots off again until she got to the campsite tonight as her feet would swell up and it would hurt more when she had to put them back on. Jo had been mostly surprised that he knew she had blisters: no-one had said anything about it.

*

Tom waited until the group had trudged their way back out of the pub garden before letting out the laughter. He’d been holding it back for at least ten minutes and was more than a little tipsy, so he felt that he could be forgiven for almost falling off the picnic bench, saved only by a timely grab for his t-shirt by Ben.

Kris, meanwhile, was looking at Alex with wide eyes and a new respect.

“Jesus, Alex,” she said, “How the hell did you keep a straight face for so long? I thought I was going to burst when you brought out that bit about the military training range!”

“And taking Jo aside to talk about her non-existent blisters was a nice touch,” Rob agreed, taking another swig of his Guinness. Alex grinned.

“Well, what can I say?” he said, dryly, pushing Tom, whose laughter had taken on an almost hysterical note, away from where he was leaning on Alex’s shoulder. “I was always the straight man Tom played off, I’ve had a lot of practice through the years. And Jo did have blisters, I could tell from the way she was standing.” Mark snorted.

“Proper Sherlock Holmes, you are.”

“Still,” Ben replied, “That was quite a performance. I’ve always wondered why all your students at _Sennybridge-_ ” -there was an odd inflection on the word- “are so afraid of you.”

“Oh, _please_ ,” Alex scoffed, “ _You_ were afraid of me the first time you met me.” Ben laughed.

“The first time I met you I thought you were a little shit out to make us all fail basic. The _second_ time I met you I was afraid of you. Now, I _know_ you’re the little shit I first thought you were in basic.” Despite the seemingly harsh words, his tone was fond. Alex tilted his head, an odd little smirk on his face.

“Thanks. I think.” Tom, finally finished laughing, straightened up from leaning against Ben’s arm and wiping the tears from his eyes.

“Mate, that was brilliant. Are you ready to do it to the next lot? If we don’t, we’ll never keep the story straight. They do talk to each other once they get to the campsite, you know.” Alex shrugged.

“Don’t see why not. It is kind of fun.”

“Brilliant!”

*

By the time Philip’s group trudged, stomped and limped their way into the campsite that evening, they had  been overtaken by a couple of other groups. All of them had been a little confused about why they had been tested, but they’d all agreed that the blond examiner guy was completely terrifying.

And apparently still around, judging by the suspiciously military looking jeep parked outside the large teachers tents.

Laughter and the clink of glasses could be heard late into the night, but although no-one heard it leave, the jeep was gone when they got up with the sun the next day.

*

For Philip and his group, that day proved to be even worse than the last. The sun had been shining when they had got up, and continued that way until they were on the first ridge they had to climb. Unfortunately, by the time that they reached the top, low clouds had come in again. The cold mist from it was so thick that it was hard to see twenty feet in front of their faces, let alone triangulate any compass bearings on visible landmarks, which is what they had been taught to do if they didn’t know where they were.

There were three possible paths leading down into the mist, excluding the one they had come up on. After much debating and several compass bearings, all of which produced different results, a shaky consensus was reached over which path they were going to go down. After some minutes of silent trudging, the path became steeper and started to twist and zig-zag its way down a gully filled with loose scree. They slipped and slid their way down this, the momentum of their rucksacks making it hard to slow down or stop. It was only when the gully opened out into the side of the mountain, which was filled with larger pieces of broken debris that Pete, glancing down at the map hanging from his neck, announced that he thought that they had gone the wrong way.

A collective groan ran through the group. Jo’s was especially heartfelt – her blisters were throbbing horribly. Philip went over to look at Pete’s map. “Why do you think that?”

Pete pointed at the map. “Look, here’s the top of Fan Gylwych, and that’s the path we should be on. But scree is shown as those funny little dots, right? Well, this path has lots of scree on it, and a gully like the one we just came down.” Philip groaned when he realised that Pete was right.

Meredith turned to look back up at the way they had come, mostly lost in the mist. “Well, there’s no way we’re going to manage that path again with these bags.” she said, to noises of general agreement. Pete bent back over his map again.

“But look- if we continue on this path down to that cwm, we can go down that path and then walk up that stream on the right and meet the path that we were supposed to be on at that saddle.” Philip followed his finger over the map and agreed with him – it could work. Invigorated, the group continued down the path, weaving their way through the fields of scree.

*

Three hours later, Philip’s good mood had dissipated like the ever present mist was supposed to. They had trekked down to the valley floor and met the larger path as they were supposed to, but had been unable to locate the stream to follow to the saddle, invisible in the mist above them. The path forked a couple of times, and completely lost, they chose whichever looked the most likely. They had eventually reached a dense pine forest of the type planted by loggers, and the path curved off sharply to the left. Now completely lost, they had followed it in a miserable silence. Then, thinking they could see a road through the trees to the right, they had left the path altogether, pushing desperately through the thick braches until they reached a muddy track with deep wheel ruts in it. There they collapsed, exhausted, demoralised and hungry.

“What are we going to do now?” Meredith asked with a sigh. “We’re completely lost. Even if the mist does lift, there’s no way we’re going to be able to see any landmarks with all the trees in the way.”

There was a long silence. Eventually, Philip got up from where he was sitting on his bag. “I’ve got my phone in the bottom of my bag. I know we’re not supposed to use them, but I think this constitutes an emergency, don’t you?” There were noises of agreement, and Simon got up to help Philip dig through his rucksack for his phone. Philip turned it on, the reassuring little beep making his heart rise, but when he glanced at the screen it sank again.

“No signal.” The others went through their own rucksacks for their phones, but had the same problem.

“Well, I suppose the only thing we can do is keep walking downhill.” Simon said, with a grim smile.

They had been walking for about half an hour when they first heard it. Jo was the first, limping at the back of the group with her teeth set so as not to complain too much.

“Guys,” she called, “Guys, stop a second. Can you hear that? It sounds like a car.” It did. They carefully hopped over the wheel ruts and out of the way in the track, and round the bend that they had just walked round came a jeep. When the driver saw them waving him over, he braked sharply, sending up a spray of mud from the back wheels and came to an abrupt stop before them.

The driver was a soldier, big and bulky, in camouflage uniform, a beret and a scowl. They gathered round as he wound down the passenger window.

“Do you have any fucking idea where you are?” he demanded, before anyone could say a word.

“Um, no.” Philip replied, unnerved. “That’s kind of the point, actually. We’re supposed to be on a Duke of Edinburgh expedition but we’re completely lost. Is there any chance you could look at our map and let us know where we are?” The soldiers scowl had been growing throughout Philip’s explanation, and he leaned over and opened the passenger door.

“Get in.” When they opened their mouths to protest, he went on. “You’re in the middle of a military firing zone. You’re lucky you haven’t been shot - we’ve got exercises going on in parts of it today and I’ll be fucked if I’m leaving you here. Get. In.”

They got in.

The soldier’s name was Ian Cooper, he was a Staff Sergeant in 6th Battalion The Rifles and his brigade were training in the Brecon Beacons as part of their top-up training before being sent out to Afghanistan.

“Are you training at Sennybridge, then?” Meredith enquired. After a slight pause, Sergeant Cooper indicated that he was. “You might know our examiner, then, he said he was an instructor at Sennybridge. I don’t know his rank, but his name is Alex Rider?”

Sergeant Cooper gave a bark of surprised laughter. “Alex Rider? Bloody hell, it’s a good thing I picked you up, then. Rider’d have my guts for garters if I’d seen you in trouble and sent you the other way. You don’t want to mess with him.”

They bounced down rutted tracks to the foot of the mountain, and turned onto a better paved road, passing through large gates in a barbed wire fence. The sentries nodded to Cooper, but didn’t stop the jeep. They passed into a large compound of long, low buildings, apparently deserted. Cooper stopped the car and they hefted their bags and followed him into a room with some chairs, which they collapsed into gratefully.

“Wait here.” Cooper told them, and left the room, shutting the door behind him.

*

Ian wasn’t quite sure what to think. He’d been very surprised to see schoolchildren in the middle of the range, especially when it was active, and made a note to find out how they’d got in, so that it wouldn’t happen again. It could have been incredibly dangerous for the kids, not to mention the issue with national security if members of the public could just walk in on the SAS training.

He stuck his head around the door of the office he shared with a fellow sergeant.

“Hey, Andy,” he said, “you’re never going to believe what I found in the firing range just now.” Sergeant Andy Reid looked up from the reports on his desk and pushed his reading glasses up his nose.

“Ian? I thought you were supposed to be supervising the team firing today? That’s this morning, right?”

“Yeah, I was on my way there, and well, something came up.” Andy put his pen down.

“I’m listening.”

“You’ll never believe this. I’m in the range, driving up to the surveillance checkpoint for the recruits, and I turn a corner and there’s a bunch of kids sitting by the road. Nearly gave me a heart attack.” Andy leaned back in his chair and grinned.

“Oh, c’mon, Ian, you’ve got to be having me on! Kids?”

“My hand to god, it’s true. They’re sitting in the meeting room in H Block. So, they’re frantically waving me down, and they tell me they’re lost – as if I didn’t know that already, Jesus – and get this, Andy. Asked if I was from Sennybridge and did I know a Commander Rider, because he was the assessment supervisor for their _Duke of Edinburgh expedition_.”

“What, _our_ Commander Rider? Bullshit.” Andy said, with a frown. Ian looked thoughtful.

“I don’t know, he did mention he was taking a day off yesterday, and by all accounts he came back in the early hours of this morning looking rough, but he disappeared again right after first call this morning. There might be something in it.”

“I’m not sure, Ian. They’re a security risk, whatever their story, and if it contains Rider it’s pretty much guaranteed that they are more of a security risk than we think. What are you going to do about them?”

Ian shrugged. “Well, if they’re telling the truth about Rider, we can give him a call and he can come and corral some of his wayward flock. It’s not like he doesn’t have the security clearance for it.”

Andy snorted, but stood up from his chair with a sigh.

“And how. Well, let’s have a look at ‘em.”  He passed Ian in the doorway and then paused.

“Ten quid says that story about Rider’s a lie, Cooper.” It was Ian’s turn to snort.

“You’re on, Reid.”

*

They’d been in the room about ten minutes before anyone had recovered enough to do anything more than slump on the chairs in relief. Jo was the first to speak.

“Well, at least we’re not lost any more?” she offered, weakly. Meredith huffed out a weary laugh from where she was faceplanted onto the table.

“We apparently nearly got shot, though,” she pointed out, voice muffled by her arms. “And we’re pretty much guaranteed to have failed our D of E.”

“There is that,” Philip agreed, still slumped in his chair. He wanted a drink, but wasn’t sure he had the energy to fumble for his water bottle.

“We didn’t get shot, though,” Simon said, and then after a moment, “I would argue that we might still be lost, though. Anyone got any ideas where we actually are?”

Steph tilted her head from where she was sitting leaning against the wall. “Well, the sergeant is from Sennybridge, right? Are we in Sennybridge?”

“I don’t think so,” Pete replied, wearily, “Sennybridge is a big town, yeah? And we’re right out in the wild still. And apart from anything else, it’s also on completely the other side of Pen-y-Fan from where we were supposed to be going. Surely we can’t have got it _that_ wrong?”

“We were pretty lost when Sergeant Cooper found us,” Philip pointed out. “We definitely aren’t in a big town though, I think even we would have noticed that.” There was slight laughter.

They shifted back into a slightly awkward silence for a few minutes, until they heard footsteps in the hall, and Cooper came back into the room. He was accompanied by another man, with a slighter build and, incongruously, a pair of glasses folded over the breast pocket of his uniform. They paused, taking in the sight of the group sprawled over the furniture in the room: Pete, Simon, and Philip in a group at one corner, Meredith with her head still on the table, Steph sitting on her rucksack against the wall and Jo on the floor with her boots off.

“Everyone okay?” Sergeant Cooper asked, to general assent. “Good. Alright, we’re going to try and get you home as soon as possible. This is my colleague, Sergeant Andrew Reid.”

Reid took the last seat at the table and Cooper leaned against the wall beside the door.

“Okay, first things first – do you have a contact number that we can call to let them know you’re alright? Is that the kind of thing that happens on Duke of Edinburgh expeditions?” Reid smiled apologetically. “I don’t know much about them, I’m afraid.”

 _No,_ Philip thought, _I can’t imagine that this is something you deal with most of the time._

“Yeah,” he said, out loud, “They gave us a bit of paper with it on – hold on.” He bent down to rummage in his rucksack.

“Where are we?” Steph asked, “Sorry, I know it’s a really stupid question, but we were _really_ lost when Sergeant Cooper found us.”

Cooper came over from the door. “Have you got a map?” he asked. Meredith handed it over and he spread it out on the table.

“I found you over here, in the woods around the Upper Neuadd Reservoir.” Pete groaned.

“We are going to be in _so_ much trouble. We were supposed to meet the minibus in Tai’r Bull.” Reid stared at the map for a moment, and then gave a sudden bark of laughter.

“Bloody hell, you _did_ go wrong! You’re meant to be on the other side of the mountain.”

“We must have got the bearing off of the top of Pen-y-Fan wrong,” Simon explained, “we got three or four different readings, and took the only one that didn’t go straight off a cliff.”

Reid sobered quickly, though there was still a hint of a laugh in the corners of his eyes. “You had better be more careful next time – if Ian hadn’t found you, you could have walked straight into live fire, or if you’d gone a slightly different way you could have been out there all night.”

He gave them a moment to let that sink in, and sat back in his chair. “Now, I’m afraid we’ve got to ask you a few questions – you did manage to unknowingly wander into a military firing range, after all. How exactly did you get to where you were found?”

They explained, and Cooper and Reid listened gravely until they had finished, then looked at each other. Reid raised an eyebrow and Cooper rolled his eyes.

“There’s one thing you haven’t mentioned,” he said. “Tell me about how you know Alex Rider.”

 “What about him?” Jo asked with a frown.

“You said in the jeep that he was your- what was it? Instructor?” Jo brightened.

“Oh, yes. For Duke of Edinburgh, you have to be tested by someone outside of the group of people who already know you - an external examiner. We all thought that that was only for Gold, but the teachers were fairly adamant that wasn’t correct.” She shrugged. “And given that there were two men in military gear standing there ready to test us, I don’t think anyone argued very much.”

Cooper leaned forward.

“Wait, two men? You didn’t mention another man before.”

“I don’t know, is it important? Brad Daniel, or something. Taller, more muscles and darker hair.”

“Ben Daniels?”

“Yeah, something like that. Any particular reason why you’re so interested?”

Reid grinned. “Rider keeps himself to himself, no-one knows much about him. Besides, it’s possible he’s going to come down on someone here with the wrath of an avenging god. I’m just trying to make sure it isn’t any of us. Anyway,” he quickly changed the subject, “have you got that bit of paper with the number on it, kid? We’ll give your teachers a call, get them to come and pick you up.”

Philip looked up from where he was emptying things out of his bag.

“Just a second, it’s in here somewhere. Aha!” He got up, brandishing a small slip of red card. “There you go.” He passed it to Cooper with a smile.

“Thanks,” Cooper said, and left the room, leaving them with Reid, who got to his feet as well.

“I’d better get back to work at some point. Are you guys all set?” Steph got to her feet, looking faintly embarrassed.

“Um, some water would be good, and I wonder if you could show us where the loos are?” Reid nodded.

“Of course. This way.”

*

“I think this is the point at which we’re going to have to call Rider.” Andy’s voice came from the door, and Ian looked up from his desk, a strange inversion of the scene half an hour before.

“I think you’re right,” Ian replied, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “Their teachers are going to get worried, and we can’t babysit them all day.” Andy snorted.

“Well, yeah, for a start you’re supposed to be up in the range testing the people we’re actually _paid_ to babysit. Also there’s the security breach as well – they may still think that we’re regulars, but they’re smart kids, that might not last very long.”

“And Rider’ll know what to do about that, I suppose. D’you reckon that Daniels guy is the other spook?”

“Probably. It’s not as if anyone sees much of them outside of the time they spend scaring the shit out of the trainees. We’ve all heard the stories, though. Blimey – Rider, a Duke of Edinburgh instructor? I’d sooner believe the one about skiing down a mountain on an ironing board.” Andy snorted.

Ian fumbled in his pocket, pulling out the slip of red card that Philip had given him.

“Well, there’s no number for Rider on here, but I’ll bank on the teachers having a contact number if he’s not with them.” He sighed.

“Don’t we have his mobile number on record?” Andy asked. “That’s standard procedure.” Ian gave him a dry look.

“What, you think I didn’t already try that? His files are above my security clearance.”

Andy snorted. “Cream of the SAS crop, and we’re reduced to asking civilians for information. Typical.”

Ian rolled his eyes and picked up the phone.

*

Tom was starting to get a little worried. All of the groups bar one had arrived at the minibus around an hour ago and were now sitting around eating their remaining chocolate and playing with their phones, which they had not been permitted to use for two days. There was no sign of Group 3 yet, though, and it was starting to get late.

“We’re going to hit the holiday rush if we don’t leave soon,” Kris murmured behind him. “And no-one will get home before ten.”

“I know,” Tom replied, “D’you reckon they’ve got lost?”

 Rob snorted. “It’s definitely possible.” He said, “Though if anyone was going to get lost I wouldn’t have put my money on Group 3.”

“Heard that, sir!” One of the students called, to general laughter, “And we’re all really offended!”

“Have you got a map?” Alex asked, “I’ll have a look at their route, see if there’s anywhere they could have gone wrong.”

Mark procured one from one of the kids, and they took it to a table and bent over it, looking at the pencilled-in route. Tom sighed, and went over to where the kids were sitting in groups.

“Has anyone got a phone number for anyone in Group 3 they can call?” he asked. Several people groped for their phones at once. Sylvie looked up at him, worried, and Tom recalled that her brother was part of Group 3.

“Do you think they’re missing, Mr Harris?” she asked.

“I don’t know, Sylvie,” he replied, “It’s possible that they’re just being quite slow, but we really need to get back, so it’d be good to have an ETA for when they should get here, or if we can pick them up from somewhere.”

“But they’re supposed to have their phones off whilst they’re on expedition.” Sylvie reminded him. Tom shrugged.

“It’s worth a try, right?”

Unfortunately, everyone who tried calling people from Group 3 found that their phones were off still, and Tom returned to the teachers without success.

“Any luck?” Ben asked, from where he was sitting sideways in the driver’s seat of the Jeep. Tom shook his head.

“Their phones are all still off, which I suppose is probably a good sign?” He sighed. Ben frowned.

“Not necessarily,” he pointed out. “Take it from me, there are a lot of places in the Brecons where you can’t get any phone signal at all. When we’re training we have to use satellite phones – even walkie-talkies don’t work in some areas. You’re lucky you’re even in signal range here.”

“Pretty much the only places you get normal mobile phone signal is on the tops,” Tom agreed. “It’s a long time after they were supposed to be here as well. I’m going to go and see if Alex has got anything.” Ben nodded, and Tom went over to where Alex and Mark were still poring over the map.

“Got anything?” he asked. Alex looked up, and smiled, wearily.

“Only that there are a lot of places they could have gone wrong. The most likely place is having taken the wrong path up this ridge, or here, where these two paths go parallel for a while.” He pointed at the map. Tom sighed.

“If they aren’t back in half an hour, I’m calling Mountain Rescue.” He decided. “They ought to be back now.”

It was at this point that his phone rang. He fished it out of his pocket and frowned at the screen. The number was withheld, but he pressed the green button anyway.

“Hello? Yes, speaking… What? Who is this, please?” Long pause. “Yes, he’s here, I’ll put you on.” He turned to Alex, and held the phone out, giving him a meaningful look. “It’s someone from _…Sennybridge_ for you.”

Alex frowned. “That’s odd, _Sennybridge_ or no _Sennybridge,_ no-one apart from Ben is supposed to know I’m with you this weekend, and they certainly shouldn’t have your number.” He raised the phone to his ear.

“Alex Rider speaking.” Alex paused. “One moment.” He turned to the others.

“I’ll be right back.”

He turned and walked away from the groups, speaking quietly into the phone.

“That’s odd,” Mark said, “How did they know your number?”

Tom shrugged. “As far as I know, Alex is fairly high up in the hierarchy at Sennybridge, it’s possible Ben told them.”

 _I’ll bet anything you like that_ they _monitor him at all times,_ he thought, bitterly.

After a few minutes of talking, Alex came back towards them.

“… yes, I’ll deal with it. Yes. Thank you for letting me know, Sergeant, you’ve solved a lot of problems for us today.” He said, and ended the call, handing Tom back his phone.

“Well, gentlemen, I think I’ve solved the mystery of your missing students.” He said. To Tom’s educated eye, he looked as if he was trying not to laugh.

“Really?” Mark asked, sceptically.

“Really.” Alex replied, with a straight face. Tom waved the other teachers and Ben over to join them.

“Where the hell are they?”  Rob demanded.

“At the SAS training camp on the Upper Neuadd Reservoir. One of their sergeants found them wandering around the military firing zone there. You’re lucky that they mentioned my name, or they would probably be stuck there for a while.”

There was a long silence.

“Well, shit.” Kris said, eventually.

“Yeah,” Rob agreed.

Tom pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a tension headache coming on. “ _Please_ say you’re kidding me.”

Alex actually did laugh then. “Sadly, no.” he replied.

“That’s on the other side of the mountain!” Tom groaned. “How the hell did they manage that?”

“Fuck that,” Ben said. He looked shaken. “They’re luck not to have been _shot_ , that zone was supposed to be active today.” The teachers all turned to stare at him.

“Now you’re actually fucking with us,” Rob said, flatly. Ben looked worried.

“I wish I was.” He said flatly. “Who was it who found them, Alex? Did they say anyone was injured?”

“It was Cooper who found them,” Alex replied, “And no, no-one was injured, don’t worry.” Ben looked relieved.

“Oh good, Cooper’s one of the good ones, though I thought he was still out at Castlemartin this week.”

“Nah,” Alex replied, easily, “That was last week, they only needed him for the anti-tank training.”

“Wait,” Mark said, slowly, “I thought you two were Army instructors?”

Alex and Ben looked at one another, and Alex shrugged. “We are,” he said, “We’re just affiliated with the SAS for the current training session they’re doing.”

“Okay,” Tom said, a little flustered. He was always a little surprised how good Alex was at lying. “So what happens next? Can we take an empty minibus and go and pick them up?”

Alex shrugged. “You could, but unfortunately it won’t be as simple as that. They’re all going to have to sign the Official Secrets Act, and for that they need an adult who is _in loco parentis_ – I assume none of them are eighteen?”

Kris shook her head.

“Okay, then. Someone has to countersign for them if they’re under eighteen, and it’s probably going to take at least a couple of hours to source seven copies – we don’t exactly have copies of the OSA lying around in a closed camp like that.”

“Right,” Mark replied, after a pause. “And I’m assuming we probably don’t want to take this lot with us?” He nodded to the kids sitting around the minibus. Alex gave a thin smile.

“Not unless you want them to all have to sign it, too.” Tom sighed.

“Okay, look. You guys,” he gestured towards the other teachers, “Take the rest of the kids back in the minibuses, and I’ll go with Alex to countersign for the kids.”

“But how will you get home?” Kris objected, “You won’t have any transport.”

“I’m sure Alex and I can work something out,” Tom said, glancing at Alex, who nodded. “We’ll find some kind of transport and I’ll give you a ring when we’re on our way back. It’d probably be a good plan to call their parents as well, just explain that they’ll be back later because they got lost and had to be retrieved from an army camp, and that we’ll call them when we leave to give them an ETA. No need to mention the SAS.”

Kris still looked reluctant. “I don’t like the idea of you having to deal with this alone.” She said.

“Look,” Tom said, “I won’t be alone, I’ve known Alex for years, and Ben for only slightly less long, and it’s not the first time I’ve had to deal with the OSA, either.”

Kris, Rob and Mark stared at him.

“What did you-” Tom rolled his eyes

“I can’t say. It’s the _Official Secrets Act._ That means I have to keep it a _secret._ I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” Alex said, “It’s decided. I’m going to make some calls, you guys pack up the minibuses, alright? We’ll be off when you are.”

*

Tom, Alex and Ben watched the minibuses until they were out of sight, still buzzing with the news that Group 3 had got so epically lost that they’d ended up in an army camp on the other side of the mountain.

“Right,” Ben said after a moment. “We’d better be off, then.”

They got into the Jeep and Ben drove off, navigating expertly down the narrow lanes. Tom leaned forwards from where he was sitting in the back seat to talk to them.

“Any news on the OSA?” he asked.

“They’re being couriered down from the SAS HQ in Credenhill as we speak,” Alex replied. “Should be at the camp in about an hour and a half. Thankfully I can witness them, or we’d have to have someone down from London to administer them, and that would have been a nightmare.”

Tom snorted. “Tell me about it.”

Alex smirked. “Well, by now I suspect they just have a drawer full of blank OSAs with your name on and just pull one out when it’s inevitably needed. They should just get you to sign a blanket one, but those aren’t really supposed to be for civilians.”

Ben laughed. “It’d be a lot quicker.” He pointed out. “But then the kids would probably ask questions.”

“God, yeah,” Tom replied, “What a clusterfuck.” Both Ben and Alex made noises of heartfelt agreement.

They drove up over the shoulder of the mountain, the small mountain road twisting and winding its way down through the valley. They reached the main A-road at the bottom and drove along that for a few minutes, turning off down a narrow track leading back up onto the mountain. Ben stopped at the checkpoint halfway up, and leaned out the window.

“Hi, Ben Daniels and Alex Rider – Alex, you got your ID? Thanks – and we’ve got a guest that HQ are expecting. Can you sign him in? Thomas Harris, he’s the teacher of the kids that wandered- yep, great, thanks.”

The gates opened ponderously in the headlights, and Ben drove up through the dense woodland to the long, low buildings that formed the administrative headquarters and barracks of the SAS camp. A tall, slight man in a Sergeant’s uniform was waiting for them in the brightly lit space outside one of them.

They got out of the car, and the man saluted.

“Commander Rider, sir. Special Agent Daniels.” Alex returned the salute.

“Sergeant Reid, I assume you’re one of the ones dealing with the children?”

“I am, sir.” Reid replied.

“In which case, may I introduce Tom Harris, their supervisor for the expedition.” Reid’s handshake was firm.

“A pleasure. Commander, there’s been a couple of phone calls for you from your superiors in the last couple of hours, I said I would pass that on.”

Alex sighed. “Tom, are you alright if I leave you with Sergeant Reid for a short while? Ben and I apparently have a couple of phone calls to make.”

Tom nodded his consent, and Alex and Ben disappeared off to another of the buildings.

“Sorry about that, Mr. Harris. Before I take you to them, there’s a couple of things I’d like to go over with you, if that’s alright? They know you’re on your way, but we’ve provided them with drinks and they seem fairly happy.”

“No problem,” Tom replied, “I hope they haven’t been too much trouble, aside from nearly getting shot in your live firing zone?” Reid laughed.

“Not at all, although I suspect that they scared about ten years off of Staff Sergeant Cooper’s life when he saw them there.”

 “If you’ll follow me, Mr. Harris, we’ll just go into my office down here.”

Reid led Tom down a corridor of closed doors, and opened the door to a small office. They took seats, and Reid shuffled a few papers before finding the one he was looking for.

“There are going to be quite a few things to sign tonight, I’m afraid. This is just a form confirming that you’re _in loco parentis_ for the kids whilst they’re here.” Tom took it, read it through and signed it, swapping it for the next one.

“That one is a fairly standard non-disclosure agreement for anything you see here today.” Again, Tom signed it. Reid leaned back in his chair.

“Has Commander Rider explained that both you and the children will have to sign the Official Secrets Act?” he asked.

Tom nodded. “Yeah, I don’t see it as a problem. I’m also happy to co-sign for the kids, which Alex- _Commander Rider_ also indicated that I would have to do.”

“Alright,” Reid said. “It’ll take a while for the OSA documents to be couriered in – we don’t keep copies here, you see-“

“Closed camp, right?”

“That’s correct, yes. I’m happy to go over a copy with you now, so that you can explain it to the children, if you would like?” Tom considered this.

“Are the ones for the children different to the one I have to sign?” he asked.

“Not a great deal, no.” Reid replied. “Really, the only different part is the co-signing part, which you’ll have to do.”

“It’s alright then, I think I’m alright.” Tom said. Reid looked surprised. “I’ve been friends with Alex for a long time, this isn’t the first time I’ve had to sign the OSA, and I’d be really surprised if it were the last. Unless this one is measurably different to the ones that MI6 hands out?”

Reid blinked.

“I’ve, ah, never really been privy to the detail of an Official Secrets Act issued by MI6,” he said, “But I imagine they are the same, as it’s the same piece of legislation. I’ll just take you through the co-signatory part then, if that’s alright?”

Tom indicated that it was, and Reid produced a guidance sheet with a faintly embarrassed grimace.

“This isn’t really in my normal field of expertize, I’m afraid. Normally I’d ask Rider to do it, but he seems to be otherwise disposed. Now, when you sign for the kids, you’re stating that you’ve been in the room throughout the explanation and that you will do everything in your power to prevent them from speaking about things they have seen, but unless you are directly present when they do so, you are not liable for prosecution should they break it. If they contravene the OSA as minors under sixteen, they’ll be charged as children, and if over sixteen as adults. As far as I can tell, they’ll also be required to resign it aged eighteen, as it will have been less than five years since the first signing. Does that all make sense?”

“Think so,” replied Tom, with a frown. “Though that’s changed since I was a kid. Never had to resign it aged eighteen.” He watched, wickedly, as Reid opened his mouth to ask, paused, and carefully shut it again.

“Well, everything seems to be in order here.” He said, instead. “If I take you to the kids, is there any way you could explain the OSA procedure and that kind of thing? They should be here in about forty minutes, providing the courier doesn’t get lost.”

“Sure,” Tom agreed.

“Right this way,” Reid said, and Tom followed him out.

*

Philip was bored. By the looks on everyone else’s faces, so were they. They’d all been grateful for the chance to sit down indoors, of course, but the novelty had faded quickly, and the worry that they were in terrible trouble had faded somewhat as absolutely nothing had happened.

Meredith hadn’t moved from her slump on the table since the soldiers left with Mr. Harris’s phone number, and Pete had given up an hour ago and was lying on the floor dosing fitfully. Next to him, Steph was playing some game on her phone, rather badly judging by the quiet swearing and increasingly violent tapping. Jo and Simon were playing some sort of card game, and Philip himself was idly doodling on the back of the map with a stub of pencil.

All of them jumped when the door opened. Pete jerked out of his nap and Meredith lifted her head. Sergeant Reid came in, followed by Mr. Harris, both looking tired and grave.

There was a sudden babble of voices as everyone leapt up and tried to explain at once.

“Quiet, quiet!” Mr Harris called, holding up his hands. Then, when that didn’t appear to work, “Seriously, _quiet_!” They were quiet.

“Okay, one question at a time.” He pointed at Simon. “You first.”

“Are we in trouble?” Simon asked quietly. Mr Harris sighed.

“No, kids, you’re not in trouble.” Reid coughed, lightly. Mr Harris rolled his eyes. “Okay, you’re slightly in trouble, but not from me. Although in the interests of not taking another ten years off of unsuspecting soldiers’ lives, you’re all going to be signed up for remedial map-reading classes once a week until the next expedition takes place.” They all groaned.

“So what happens now?” Philip asked, emboldened by Mr Harris’ nerve. Mr Harris sighed.

“Well, you all have to sign the Official Secrets Act.” There was a startled murmuring all around.

“What for?” Jo asked, puzzled. “Okay, we walked into a live firing range, but we didn’t actually see anything! And we’ve been sitting here for the last few hours, we haven’t seen anything of the camp.”

“Aside from walking straight into _a live firing range_ – and believe me, the only reason that I’m not tearing you a new one for that monumental act of stupidity is because the Sergeant has kindly confirmed that there were no warning signs on your particular route in – you also managed, as civilians, to walk straight into an SAS training exercise, and are currently sitting in a highly secret SAS camp.” Mr Harris said, flatly. “Basically, the only reason that you aren’t stuck here for a couple of days whilst GCHQ faffs around trying to find someone to take responsibility for six teenage civilians so that they can co-sign the OSA is because you happened to mention that Commander Rider was your external examiner.”

There was a long, shocked silence. Behind Mr Harris, Sergeant Reid looked like he’d taken a rifle butt to the face.

“Well, shit.” Meredith said eventually.

“Yeah, that’s about the long and short of it.” Mr Harris replied with a sigh. “Look, I’m supposed to sit you all down and discuss the procedure of this with you. Before I do that, I’ve just got to impress on you the severity of the consequences that will follow if you don’t sign this, or if you sign this and then contravene it. You could go to prison. Because I’m going to co-sign for you all, I could go to prison. If they so much as suspect that you’ve broken it, you can be hauled in for questioning at any time. This isn’t like detention at school. It’s serious. Real life serious. Got it?”

There were various mumbles of assent, faces all around the table now white and serious. Philip felt his stomach twist uncomfortably.

“Good. Okay, so we have about half an hour until the actual documents get here, but I can go over the basic points of it with you right now, and if you have any questions I can’t answer, Sergeant Reid will no doubt be able to help us. Basically, it starts like this…”

*

Behind the two-way glass, Ian was stunned. Had the teacher just- he _had_. Oh god. And now he was just sitting there, calmly discussing the Official Secrets Act like he was in class at school.

He heard the door to the viewing room open, and straightened up hastily as Daniels’ voice spoke from behind him.

“What’s wrong, Sergeant?”

“Nothing, sir.” Ian replied, still a little stunned. Daniels sighed.

“Out with it, come on. What’s Harris done this time?”

“I- er- well, he just sat there and told them flatly that they were in an SAS camp and they were lucky to have mentioned Commander Rider’s name, otherwise they’d be stuck here forever.” Daniels shrugged.

“Well, it’s all true at least. Tom’s always been a bit audacious like that, though, I wouldn’t worry. Despite all evidence, he’s always known how much he could say, and who to.”

“I suppose you know him better than I do,” Ian said, doubtfully. “In the SAS we tend to default to ‘need to know’, though, and there was no real need to mention most of that.” Daniels sighed.

“They’re about to sign copies of the OSA issued from GCHQ, Cooper, I think they would have worked it out at that point anyway.” He pointed out. “And in my experience scare tactics like that work very effectively on _most_ teenagers. They’re less likely to say anything if they’re indebted to people associated with it in their minds.” Ian raised an eyebrow.

“ _Most_ teenagers, Daniels? I wouldn’t have thought you’d get much experience with teenagers in MI6.” Daniels gave a bark of laughter.

“You’d be surprised. Mind you, there were only two teenagers it never really worked on, and I’ll tell you this: one of them is currently sitting calmly in that room-” He nodded towards the one-way glass, behind which Harris was having a spirited debate about parental consent with Pete. “-debating the ethics of the Official Secrets Act.”

At this point, Ian’s radio buzzed to life. _Sergeant Cooper, over. Sergeant Cooper, over._

Ian sighed, sensing the moment to ask was over. “This is Sergeant Cooper, over.”

 _Courier from GCHQ just passed the checkpoint, over._ Ian stood.

“Thanks for the heads-up, Will, over.”

 _No problem, Ian, over._ Daniels grinned.

“Better go and collect those copies of the OSA, then.” He said.

*

Tom had just finished explaining the ins and outs of the Official Secrets Act to Group 3 when another soldier, taller and burlier than Reid, popped his head around the door.

“Andy, the courier’s arrived.” Reid looked up.

“Thanks, Ian. Mr Harris, can I introduce Sergeant Cooper, who found your students in the firing range earlier today. He’s been handling the GCHQ side of this incident.” Tom stood and shook the soldier’s hand.

“A pleasure, Mr Harris.”

“Likewise. So, what’s the plan, then? I’m assuming that you’re the man who has one.” Cooper grinned.

“Well, you could say that, I suppose. Now we’ve received the copies of the OSA from GCHQ, we’re able to get on with the signing. It’s one of those things that has to happen individually, unfortunately, so we’ve set up a room for you in D-Block. Hopefully Commander Rider will be finished on the phone by the time we get you all over there. Then, once that’s over with, we’ll put you on a troop transporter and get you back to London. Sound good?”

There was a murmur of agreement, and muffled groans as Group 3 realised they were going to have to haul their half-unpacked rucksacks all the way across the camp. Tom leaned against the wall and smirked.

“We can wait.”

*

Rider was just finishing up his telephone call when Ian entered the room. It was small and dark and usually used for capture and interrogation practice, but there were few rooms on base which were wired to the degree necessary for the monitoring that GCHQ had required. Ian got the feeling that they knew something about Rider that he didn’t, if the alarm triggered by his description of Rider’s interactions with these civilians was anything to go by.

“Yes. Yes, thank you, Tulip, I _quite_ understand. I can be in London tomorrow. Yes, I appreciate the urgency, but I have some business that I absolutely must deal with here first. No, I’m afraid I can’t do that. Really. _Thank you_.” He put the phone down and turned to Ian, who’d been waiting by the door. “Is everything ready?”

“Yes, sir.” Ian replied, choosing not to comment on the tail end of the conversation he’d overheard. He set down the briefcase he’d been carrying on the table, and handed the key to Rider, who opened it and took out seven copies of the Official Secrets Act. One was slightly thicker than the others and he set it aside before looking up at Ian.

“If you could send Mr Harris in first, please, that would be excellent.”

*

When Mr Harris popped his head around the door for the third time, Philip’s name was the one to be called. He swallowed the butterflies in his stomach, quashed the thoughts wondering about exactly how this had suddenly become his life, and followed his teacher into the dark little room. A soldier in dress uniform was sitting behind the desk, and when he looked up, fair hair glinting in the low light, Philip recognised him. It was Commander Rider, the first soldier they’d met in the pub garden what felt like an age ago. He smiled encouragingly when Philip met his eyes, and gestured at the chair on the other side of the table. Mr Harris sat down next to Philip with a sigh.

Rider shuffled some papers together from the piles on the desk, and formed them into a new pile in front of him.

“Alright, Philip,” he began, “I know Tom’s explained most of what you need to know about the Official Secrets Act to you before you came in, but do you have any questions about it that I can answer for you?”

Philip thought about that for a minute, and realised that, to his surprise, he did.

“Um, I do, actually,” he replied, “Will this show up in my records for anything in the future? I mean, is it going to affect the likelihood that I’ll get a job?” Rider lifted an eyebrow, looking a little impressed.

“Only in very specific circumstances,” he said, gently. “Unless you’ve broken the agreement and been tried for treason, it wouldn’t show up on a Criminal Records Bureau check, or any normal checks done by an employer before hiring someone. But if you applied to join the military or the secret service, or anything in which you might require a rigourous security check because you were dealing with confidential governmental information, a small notification that you have signed the OSA will be added to your file. Given the specific circumstances involved though, it shouldn’t affect any of your applications to those organizations. Is that satisfactory?”

Philip nodded.

“Okay,” Rider continued. “In that case, we’ll get on with it, if that’s alright.” He pushed the pile of paper across to Philip. “Tom has been over with you the exact nature of the agreement, and I can assure you that this agreement doesn’t differ at all from what you’ve been told. I need you to read out loud the statement on the page I’ve paper-clipped to the top page, fill in the information on the second page, and then flip to the places with post-it notes sticking out and sign there. Tom will have to co-sign for you at each of those places, so hand it over to him when you’re done.” Philip dropped his eyes to the page in front of him and began to read.

“I understand that by signing this document I relinquish the right to share such confidential information as has been imparted to me, or events which have been designated as confidential information with any civilian not specifically designated by the Official Secrets Act. I understand the details of this Act, which have been fully explained to me. I understand I may be recalled at the age of eighteen to confirm my assent to this agreement.” Rider handed him a biro, and Philip signed that sheet, then flipped to the next page to fill in his information. Most of it was fairly standard – his address, date and place of birth and parent’s names and occupations he could all do. The information of the school and Mr Harris’s information had already been filled in in the second column on the page. He paused at his National Insurance number, and looked up. Rider was concentrating on something on his phone, which was apparently the only phone to get signal here.

“Mr Harris?” He whispered, reluctant to disturb the soldier.

“Yes, kiddo?” Mr Harris apparently had no such compunctions, but Rider’s face didn’t even twitch.

“What do I do if I can’t fill in all the information? I don’t know my NI number, or,” he glanced down the page. “My passport number or my NHS number or where my parents were born.” Mr Harris sighed.

“I really don’t know how they expect you to know all these things. Don’t worry about it, Philip, they’re perfectly able to find out that stuff themselves. Just write down what you do know, and leave the things you don’t blank, and it’ll be fine.” Philip glanced apprehensively at Commander Rider again, afraid that he’d be angry with them, but Rider was still concentrating very hard on his phone. Philip thought he could see the ghost of a grin at the corner of his mouth, though.

He filled in the rest of the information and signed at the appropriate places, then passed it off to Mr Harris, who went through the whole thing filling in his information as well. Mr Harris passed it back to Rider, who picked up Philip’s discarded biro, flipped to the very end and signed his name with a flourish. He looked up and smiled at Philip tiredly.

“There, all done. Not too painful, was it?” Philip smiled back, tentatively.

“Not really.” They all stood, and Mr Harris showed Philip out with a grin and a call for Jo to come in with him.

*

It took about an hour and a half to get all the kids through, and by the end Tom’s hand ached with signing his name. He showed Simon to the door, and after assuring him that they’d be out in a minute and that he should tell the others to get ready to go, he turned back to Alex. Alex grinned tiredly at him.

“I should probably get in contact with Kris,” Tom said, running a hand through his hair. “She’ll be able to phone their parents and give them an ETA for the kids, as well as a drop off point. Er, what exactly _is_ happening with that, just so I can let her know?” Alex sat back in his chair.

“Well,” He replied, “The Bank has sort of urgently required my presence in London ‘at my earliest convenience’,” He put finger quotes around the words and rolled his eyes. “And that means that Ben has to come too, since they have him babysitting me. Me and Ben and you and the kids makes nine, so I’ve commandeered a troop carrier from the camp. I can drop you all off at the school, or their houses or wherever you think is best.” Tom frowned at him.

“Please tell me you didn’t put off dealing with some massive crisis that will affect the future of mankind just to bail my pupils out of a SAS camp.” Alex gave a snort of laughter.

“God, no. Don’t worry. One of the analysts has just got himself into a flap over a couple of joint missions with the CIA I oversaw last month. Thinks there’s some sort of potential for a diplomatic incident, and God forbid that we offend the Americans.” He rolled his eyes again. “To be quite honest, I was glad I had an excuse when Jones started making noise about sending a helicopter. It’s all politics, and I really don’t have the patience to deal with it today.”

“You’re good at the politics, though.” Tom pointed out. Alex snorted again, and leant his chair back on two legs.

“Damn straight I’m good at the politics. I’m bloody brilliant at the politics. Doesn’t mean I have to _like_ the politics.” It was Tom’s turn to laugh.

“True, true,” he acknowledged, and heaved himself to his feet. “I’m going to go and find a phone, because yours is apparently the only mobile that works in this place. I’ll let you know what we decide about dropping the kids off.”

Alex waved him off absently, already focussed on his mobile again, and Tom went.

He wandered around for a bit until he found Sergeant Cooper, who directed him back to the office he’d been in with Sergeant Reid earlier.

“Nine for an outside line,” Cooper told him cheerfully, and left him to it.

Tom found Kris’s mobile number in his phone, which still didn’t have any signal, and dialled. Kris picked up on the first ring.

“Hello?” she said, voice cautious.

“Kris, hi. It’s Tom.”

“Tom! Oh, thank god, I was worried something had happened. You haven’t replied to any of our texts. Are the kids alright?” Her voice was full of relief. Tom felt a pang of guilt.

“Sorry, my phone has absolutely no signal here, and this is the first chance that I’ve had to call you. The kids are fine – Jo has some pretty nasty blisters, but nothing serious.”

“That’s good to know.” Kris replied. “Hang on a moment.” Tom heard her relaying the information to Rob and Mark.

“I was actually hoping you could do me a favour,” Tom said, when she came back on the line. “We’re set to leave in the next half hour or so, depending on how quickly Ben can scrounge up some dinner and Alex can find us an appropriate troop transporter. I was wondering if you could call their parents again and let them know our ETA.”

“You’re just leaving?” Kris asked, “It’s about nine now, you’re going to be back pretty late. Where should I tell them you’ll drop the kids off?”

“That’s been left up to us to decide.” Tom replied. “Any thoughts?” There was a pause as the teachers on the other end of the line conferred.

“You’re probably going to hit the holiday traffic on the way back, which means an hour or two of delays,” Kris said. “It’ll be midnight when you get back at the earliest, and people will have to work tomorrow. Is there any chance you could drop them straight home?”

“Like I said, our choice. Alex is driving, so we can go pretty much wherever. Could you look up their addresses for me when you call their parents? See if anyone lives an extraordinarily long way out of the catchment area, and text me them. I should get texts fine once we get out of the mountains.”

“Sure,” Kris replied.” I’ll tell them your ETA is between about eleven-thirty and one, will that do?”

“That’d be great. Thanks, Kris!” Tom replied. “I should probably go, but I’ll talk to you later, alright?”

“Alright,” Kris said. “See you tomorrow.”

Tom hung up with a grin.

*

Alex had found them a ten-man troop transporter, which gave them a decent amount of space to stretch out, as they were actually only really _transporting_ seven people. Tom’s minibus licence technically enabled him to drive it, but Alex had declined with a wry grin when he offered.

“They have a really weird steering system, and six gears.” He explained. “And Ben and I have been qualified to drive these under enemy fire. I think if we swap out regularly we should be fine.”

They’d said goodbye to Sergeants Cooper and Reid, about an hour ago, with effusive thanks on the part of the visitors, and a promise to ensure the safe delivery of the signed copies of the OSA to GCHQ the next day on the part of the soldiers.

An hour into their journey, Tom’s phone began to beep and vibrate furiously as it came into signal range and all his undelivered texts came into his phone. Sitting up in front, he felt free to jump and swear effusively at it when it was too busy beeping to work properly.

Next to him with his eyes on the road, Alex smirked. “Well, if you _will_ insist on an unsecured line…”

“Oh, fuck you.” Tom replied with a grin. “Not all of us can be highflying spyboys with their own personal network, _Commander_ Rider. Speaking of spyboys, I haven’t heard _that_ particular rank before, Alex.” Alex laughed, looking faintly embarrassed.

“It’s honorary – supposedly for services rendered to the Navy. Personally I think someone in their High Command just has a really warped sense of humour and too much of a fondness for James Bond.” Tom snorted.

“Well, you’d be right about that at least.”

*

Ian and Andy watched the lights of the troop transporter disappear down the rough track in silence.

“Well,” Andy said, eventually. “That was interesting. And educational.”

“Yeah,” Ian agreed. “For one thing, Rider is apparently a bigger deal than I thought. HQ got into a real flap about him witnessing those copies of the OSA. They want the transcripts from the interrogation room sent up with the briefcase.” Andy raised his eyebrows.

“Really? Interesting. Harris also knows far more than he probably should, for a civilian. Apparently he’s been tight with the other two for years and years. I looked him up on the system whist they were signing the forms, and huge swathes of his records are redacted, some of them from a disturbingly young age.”

“Yeah, Daniels mentioned something like that earlier as well.” Ian replied. “It’s strange, isn’t it? We’re never really going to get answers, but there’s something about those three that’s really strange.” Andy snorted. “Oh, and Andy?”

“Yeah?”

“You owe me ten quid.”

“What? No, I don’t! Rider never _admitted_ that he was their instructor or whatever he was supposed to be!” It was Ian’s turn to raise his eyebrows.

“Oh, really? Why the hell do you think he’d go to all that effort if he wasn’t responsible for them then?”

“I’ve no idea, but I looked it up, and Silver Duke of Edinburgh expeditions don’t require external examiners. So there!”

“Those kids were definitely convinced! _And_ Harris said Rider was something to do with it when he was telling them off.”

Bickering, they headed back up the path to the barracks.

*

Philip had fallen asleep not long after they got onto the motorway in the strange military bus thing, exhausted from a very physical weekend and the stress engendered by getting lost and nearly shot, not to mention having to sign some very scary forms.

He woke as the bus stopped for the first time in a couple of hours, disturbed by the change in motion. Blearily, he waved goodbye to Meredith, whose parents were waiting for her at the door to her house, and fell back into a light doze as the bus stopped and started.

He woke for a second time at a gentle hand on his shoulder. The big soldier, Daniels, Philip thought his name was, was standing over him.

“We’re at your house, kid.” He said, gently. Philip yawned and scrambled sleepily to his feet.

“What time is it?” he asked, fumbling around for the strap of his rucksack.

“Nearly one in the morning.” Came the soft reply. Daniels opened the door for him, and Philip stumbled out into the night. There was a cold wind and it was spitting with rain. Philip zipped up his jacket, waved back to Mr Harris in the cab of the bus, and, shivering, ran up the path to his house.

**Author's Note:**

> Dictionary of climbing/scrambling terms:  
> scree: loose rock, generally at the foot of crags, caused by erosion. Can be the size of gravel or the size of a car.  
> crag: sheer rock face. Like a cliff but not by the sea.  
> cwm: scoop shaped, glaciated valley, generally small and a dead end. Pronounced ‘coom’. An excellent word to know in Scrabble or hangman.  
> tops: the tops of the mountains, usually used if you’re hitting more than one in a day – you might have three or four on a ridge, say.


End file.
